The Orcs and Elves
by to live is to die
Summary: This is my first story on this thing, I started it with a band of orcs pursuing a group of elves and am just going to just see where it goes.
1. The Spy

CHAPTER 1: The Spy  
  
"Just be patient... we'll set up camp for the night and continue our search in the morning."  
  
"The morning! The elves could be miles away by then. We need to continue our search or they'll lose us!"  
  
"Our soldiers are too worn! They cannot press on, if we lose the elves then so be it."  
  
"But-"  
  
"YOU HEARD MY ORDERS!"  
  
"...As you command."  
  
The shaman started to retreat back to the main camp when suddenly he caught site of something. He started off in that direction to investigate. The elf hiding there soon noticed what he was up to and began to flee. The shaman now caught plain sight of the elf.  
  
"IT'S A SCOUT! CATCH HER!" the shaman shouted as he kept up his pursuit.  
  
Many orcs joined in on the chase but the elf was out of their reach. When she was almost away she suddenly stopped, paralyzed by a spell of the shaman. The orcs closed in around her leaving her with no route of escape.  
  
"We've got you now! There's nowhere to hide!" snarled the shaman.  
  
"That is where you are wrong" the elf calmly replied before completely vanishing into the night before their eyes. Shadow melding was one of the many mysterious abilities of the night elves. However, shadow melding was not extremely useful in this situation as it rendered the elf incapable of movement and was an ability only at night.  
  
"Where'd she go?" asked a confused orc among the group.  
  
"What is this? One does not merely vanish!" roared the angered shaman.  
  
"An elf does" proclaimed the Warcheif as he arrived at the scene. "Do you know nothing of the ways of the night elves? They are craftier than you think."  
  
"So the elf is gone?"   
  
"No, not gone, just invisible" the Warcheif explained as he grabbed hold of his backpack and searched through the miscellaneous trinkets and gems. At last he pulled out a giant green stone and held it up. Suddenly the elf appeared again.  
  
"Slit her throat before she can do another of her tricks!" yelled a bloodthirsty member of the crowd. A few orcs started towards the elf brandishing their axes.  
  
"NO!" the Warcheif screamed as he restrained the vigorous orcs "I have a better use for this elf, a much better use! Come elf!"  
  
The gang of orcs led the elf back to their camp where they locked here in a gigantic iron cage. Most of the horde retired to their tents to rest, save a few guards and the Warcheif himself who went to interrogate the elf.  
  
"What's your name, elf?" spat the Warcheif.  
  
"I'll tell you nothing!" returned the encaged elf.  
  
"YOU'LL TELL ME WHAT I ASK YOU TO TELL ME!" roared the Warcheif back at the elf as he sent a magnificent bolt of lightning at the elf. The elf collapsed on the floor of the cage, on the verge of fainting.  
  
"My… name is… Felhala Starmoon" panted the injured elf.  
  
"You were sent to spy on us?" questioned the Warcheif  
  
"…I was" Felhala responded.  
  
The Warcheif reached into his pack and produced a torn piece of cloth from a night elf robe. The cloth bore the mark of her tribe, matching the one on her own robes.  
  
"This is the mark of your tribe I presume?"   
  
"It is" replied Felhala regaining strength.  
  
The interrogation continued on into the night, the Warcheif extracting information from the all-to-willing Felhala. 


	2. The Night Elves

CHAPTER 2: The Night Elves  
  
"It is nearly morning, and still no sign of Felhala, I'm beginning to worry sister!"  
  
"We are getting close, we cannot let anything distract us from out goal!"  
  
"We can't just leave her! We must go back!"  
  
"Not until we reach the grove, we are too small in number to take on the Orcs by ourselves!"  
  
"I will not let my sister die!"  
  
"We will ALL die if we go back! We proceed to the grove."  
  
"I'm going back no matter what you say."  
  
"So be it, but I have no soldiers to spare for you, if you go you go alone, Amora."  
  
"Then I will, priestess, may Elune be with you."  
  
And with that the elf Amora turned and departed alone through the thick forest, back the way they came.  
  
The remaining elves numbered about a score, each a well-trained archer equipped with an expert bow and ample arrows. Although fine warriors, this still wasn't enough to take on the large Orc army pursuing them, at least twice that many in number and with shaman among them. So the elves planned to retreat to the sacred grove where they could find the assistance of the furbolgs who reside in that area.   
  
As morning came the elves awoke and set off once again.  
  
"Come sisters, we are almost to the grove" commanded the priestess.  
  
"What makes you think the furbolgs will help us? They have never been overly willing to help in the past!" exclaimed one from among the elves.  
  
"This is their forest to, Drelanim, they will help us to help the forest even if they don't help for our benefit" responded the confident priestess.  
  
"I just hope your right" muttered Drelanim.  
  
They traveled in silence, making good time. Soon after an uneventful trek they arrived at the grove. The elves were overjoyed at the site of the beautiful grove with a waterfall cascading over large stones, calm streams, and fields of flowers. One thing they overlooked, however, was that it was empty. Empty of furbolgs. However, the elves were too tired to care at the moment.  
  
"Let us rest for now, we have had a long day" commanded the priestess.  
  
The elves all drank deeply what they thought was pure water. Little did they know there would be huge consequences. However, they did not know so they slept peacefully there in the field.  
  
When they awoke they would never guess they had been cursed. In fact, they felt energized, healthy, and strong. And that is what the Fountain of Blood does, along with the curse of the demons. They had actually stumbled upon the fountain where Mannorath had spilled his blood in an effort to control Grom Hellscream and his followers.  
  
Soon the curse started taking affect. The elves became possessed and violent, arguing with each other for little to no reason. The priestess was the only one with the strength to keep from being controlled by the curse. Soon fighting broke out between the elves, a giant free for all brawl. Arrows flew in the air and many were injured severely. The priestess had to do something about it.  
  
She started muttering incantations, calling for help of the spirits of nature. Wisps, spirits of the elves, emerged from deep within the forest and began curing the corrupted elves one by one. Soon order was restored, with casualties numbering only a few.  
  
"This must be the Fountain of Blood" whispered the priestess finally catching on "The demons must have driven off the furbolgs—we will find no assistance here! We must press on."  
  
"Can we not use this fountain against the orcs, priestess?" inquired the elf Drelanim.   
  
"It would be risky, the fountain gives strength as well as a curse, the orcs could use that strength against us just as well as against each other" advised the priestess.  
  
"Do we have a choice? The orcs are chasing us through our own forest, we have nowhere left to run. We must put up a fight, and this is the only way we can stand a chance" argued Drelanim.  
  
"We have places to run, we can ask assistance from the druids of the caves."  
  
"They are too few in number after the war, they will not help us. We are alone, and we must fight, we must save our forest!"  
  
"Very well, you are right, my sister. This is our best option. We shall prepare for them." 


End file.
